Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Elise
A knock on Glazed’s front door pulled my attention from my task. I’d been sealing fifteen boxes full of donuts with Glazed stickers starring my smiley pink glazed donut mascot.
My pulse raced.
I’d kept busy for the last few hours, first with customers, then closing up, then working on the special order someone had made for the PTA meeting this afternoon at the elementary school. My brain had been grabbing at Luc’s words and expression—searching through every second of our time together to suss out his intentions, but nothing worked.
As I walked toward the door and flipped the lock, I promised myself I’d stay calm and hear him out. I wouldn’t assume he was lying to me or keeping things from me. I wouldn’t assume he’d use whatever I said against me later.
I wouldn’t assume he was just like Callum.
“Do you have a few minutes?” he asked, his eyes downright soulful as they inspected my apron and a large smear of frosting stretching from one side of my chest to the other.
Not my finest work, but the edge of the industrial mixer had been coated when I leaned in—it didn’t matter. I was a mess and in some ways that made me feel better. There was no pretending I had it all together. If he had somehow detected I was financially stressed, then… so be it.
“Sure.”
I tipped my head to the side and turned back toward the kitchen. A small swell of pride burst as we entered the space where the three stacks of five boxes each full of a dozen donuts waited for me to finish. They looked beautiful, and inside, the donuts were fresh and delicious. These would reach new clients who didn’t have time to come downtown in the mornings, and maybe they’d set up a standing order for their PTA meetings.
Note to self: find a way to suggest this as a recurring arrangement.
“These look beautiful. That’s a lot of donuts.” He kept his hands tucked into his pockets but his eyes traveled over the neat stacks.
“One hundred and eighty. All glazed and ready to go.” I moved to the sink to wash my hands, then dried them so I could finish the task of sealing the boxes. He simply watched in silence.
Ugh, this man. He was naturally quiet and yet he sent my blood pumping. He smelled so good and clean, he was still too gorgeous to look directly in the eye, and he was driving me insane with his quiet company.
He’s a fantasy.
I shouldn’t forget this.
A low rumbling sound filled the space, and my jaw dropped as I looked over to see him press a hand to his stomach.
“Was that you?”
His grave countenance and wide eyes spoke of how uncomfortable he felt. “I am so sorry.”
I laughed and reached for one of the remainders on a rack. “Here. You need lunch, but we need to talk, so how about you eat this and then you can go drown yourself in protein shakes or whatever you do to stay so fit.”
Ope. Yeah. So. Way to be obvious.
One of his dark brows arched. “Drown myself in protein shakes? What about me eating your donuts several times a week gives you the impression I like protein shakes?”
The hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth was, let’s be honest, a little alarming. Because there was confidence in that expression, and he’d relaxed in the wake of his post-tummy-rumble mortification.
I flicked a hand like my comment meant nothing. “I’m just saying, some of us eat donuts regularly and it shows, and for some of us, it doesn’t.” I cheekily glanced down at my body, then over to him, promptly shifting so my back was to him, busying myself with the delivery bags a second later.
His voice dropped low when he said, “Please tell me you’re not suggesting you are anything less than exquisite.”
A jolt of surprise stopped me, and I turned to see his face somber and almost… well, if I had to guess, I’d say almost upset.
I rushed to clarify. “I… I mean I’m not sure I’d say I’m exquisite but thank you for that. I mostly just mean you look like you’re about to audition for the next Superman movie.”
Mmkay and had I imagined such a thing? Yes. He’d look great in the suit and basically already fought crime like a boss. But…
An awkwardness descended and coated me in regret. I didn’t particularly struggle with body image—or I didn’t used to. I’d realized what a blessing it was to own the way I was made and the changes that’d occurred over my thirty-four years on the planet, but the knot in my stomach now was real. I’d gotten into the habit of putting myself down in front of Callum as a way to build him up—a pattern I’d adopted after being on the receiving end of his negativity and insults. And my throwaway joke felt a little too close to the habit I’d worked to forget.
Luc had spotted it instantly.
He shook his head slowly. “I’m paid to stay in shape, so I do. I also have decent genes, based on how my parents aged. But I don’t live for working out or anything like some of the guys do. It’s an important part of my life and has been for a long time, as is feeding myself, but I find I struggle to enjoy the food that fuels me best.”
My eyes narrowed on him. “And so you come here for a fix a few times a week.”
His mouth pulled into a smile. “Yes. You and Stone tend to be my suppliers for my sweet tooth.”
I laughed, enjoying that this man who, rumor had it, had been an actual model at some point in his adult life, had a sweet tooth.
And then it hit me. Cookie.
“Wait, is your nickname related to food preference?” I slid one stack of boxes into a bag, then another.
He huffed but it sounded good-humored. “Yes. I love most sweet things, but cookies are my true weakness. And when people in assessment and selection for EMU way back when figured that out, I had my name.”
I bit my lip, trying to hold back a true laugh. The idea that this stunningly hot, muscular, half-French man ended up with the nickname Cookie because he likes cookies was just too adorable.
He waved a hand between us. “It’s alright. Go ahead and laugh. I embrace it and I’ll be happy to see your smile.”
The laugh that would’ve shot out with his permission got caught in my throat as his words registered, and yet again I was left with a fuzzy, warm, and imminently alarming feeling. With a rough clearing of my throat, I grabbed the last stack of boxes and slid them into a bag.
“I need to get these delivered soon,” I said, unsure what to do with him or myself or anything.
“I apologize for interrupting. I wanted to ask if I could take you to lunch or dinner sometime soon. We could nail down what this would look like more specifically. The obvious caveat here is that if you don’t want to be involved, please say the word and I’ll forget about all of it.”
He stayed rooted to the spot where he stood, hands tucked into his pockets.
This was a slightly odd posture because I could’ve sworn I’d noticed him being a fairly handsy talker. When I’d caught him joking or laughing with Kenny and Beast or even working, he used his hands in an interesting way. But any interaction we’d had thus far, they’d been tucked neatly away.
“I’m still willing. But I won’t take money for it. I’m not—I don’t need?—”
He held up his large hand—good confirmation they weren’t actually stapled into his pockets.
“I’m sorry I suggested you needed money. You deserve compensation of some kind for dealing with this situation, which is genuinely an imposition on you. I know you don’t have time right now, but I can lay out more fully what it’ll involve—again, if you’re comfortable—and it will take time. So if you won’t accept payment in a financial sense, maybe we can figure out a way this will be beneficial for you.”
Something in there gave me pause and sparked a realization. “Now that I think about it, Callum seemed to shrink when you said you were my boyfriend. You being my fiancé might deter him even more. That’s good for me.”
I’d get him off my back, giving me space to breathe and figure out a way to move on ahead, and so I could face his threat to sell Glazed head-on. His stake in the business should’ve been paid back over time. If he was dead set on pressing this issue, I’d figure it out and remove any ability to pressure me or even pretend he had a hold over me. Get him out of my life as soon as possible.
I crossed my arms over my chest and eyed him, the uptick in my pulse easing off as I decided he looked earnest. He never seemed to be deceitful on purpose, but I couldn’t ignore the context of this whole situation being rooted in deceiving his family. Then again, we’d both be lying in this situation. Pot, meet kettle.
“So you’re thinking there’ll be some public appearances? That kind of thing?” I asked, shrugging off this sleazy feel of using someone for my gain. Though it would be mutually beneficial here, not me being a parasite. I could take another minute and get some answers about how this would work. If I didn’t, I’d end up driving myself crazy thinking through it tomorrow.
“Yes. At least two from what I can tell based on their schedule, but likely a few more. And before then, if we intend to make it convincing, we’ll need to get to know each other a bit better.”
“Okay. That makes sense.” I wasn’t clear on exactly when or how this would happen, but I could do this. Having a fake fiancé for a while would drive home my unavailable status for Callum, even if it only lasted a few weeks. It’d make clear I’d moved on and maybe he wouldn’t have to know when we stopped spending time together.
Plus, I liked the idea of getting out of my own head and thinking about something else—some one else—besides myself and my business. It’d be a nice distraction from my work-focused reality, and also, Luc needed help. My help. I could grant it, and it wouldn’t really put me out, so why not do it?
“Good. Then I’ll text you to make our next plan, and in the meantime…” he said, his voice low and eyes that cool gray-green and the shadowy scruff on his cheeks looking just rough enough to scrape against skin in a delicious way, “…think of some way I can make this up to you.”
“You playing my boyfriend is enough.”
“Fiancé,” he corrected.
I swallowed hard and nodded, a kaleidoscope of images flashing through my mind in a crush so vivid and stunning, I nearly choked. Luc’s large hand cupping my face, Luc’s soft lips on my neck, Luc’s smooth voice whispering words into my skin in a language I couldn’t understand…
Whoa. No.
That was not the kind of fantasy this would be. It simply couldn’t be.
His brow furrowed like he might ask what was wrong, so I quickly turned and grabbed the bags for delivery. I would not explain how I’d just had an attack of fantastical physical interactions between us, as though my brain was suggesting that’s how he could make this up to me.
No. Just no, brain.
I would do this for Luc to get Callum off my back, to get myself out of the funk I’d been in, to avoid stewing in my worry about the business, and to help a nice person. It would be a purely fictional pairing with this lovely man, a person I’d never partner with left to my own devices, and it would be a distraction. Maybe a little fun. Like living in a live-action romance book or something. Nothing else.
Period.